


Cris/Leo, two Leos from different universes swap places

by prompt_fills



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Humor, M/M, Parallel Universes, Translation Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 07:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5735500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a reality in which Leo and Ronaldo aren’t together <strike>yet</strike> but there is also another reality in which Cris and Leo <i>are</i> together.<br/>This is a story for <a href="http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/10208.html?thread=5376224#t5376224"> an anon who wanted to know what happens when one Leo switches places with the other Leo</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cris/Leo, two Leos from different universes swap places

**Author's Note:**

> The amazing [Nord_Sommer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nord_Sommer) translated this story into **Russian** , [you can read it here!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5155657)

 

Leo struggles to find the lock with his key, then struggles to get the front door open. It takes a little trick; he has to push upward and little to the left or the key won’t slot into its place properly. Leo smiles at the resulting _click_ , enters the house and kicks off his shoes.

He paddles to the kitchen where he can hear Cris pottering around. Leo holds up the grocery bags. “Got your favourite treat. Today’s a cheat day.”

“What are you doing here?” Cris exclaims, flinching, his voice high and funny. Leo frowns at him. He came back a little earlier but surely that doesn’t call for the startled, wide-eyed look Cris is giving him.

“I got the groceries,” Leo puts the bags on the counter, turning his back on Cris and unpacking the first bag, quickly putting the items to the usual places on the shelves and in the fridge, “didn’t even forget your stupid soy milk this time.”

All of the sudden, a hand slams the door of the fridge shut. Cris is right behind him, tall and dangerous. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here.”

Leo slowly backs away, starting to look perturbed. “Is everything all right, Cris?”

Though before Cris can answer, there comes a sound of bare feet softly paddling towards them from the hallway and minutely, both Cris and Leo freeze still. Then a little head pokes out from behind the kitchen counter. Just like with Cris, the kid’s eyes widen the moment he notices Leo.

Unlike Cris, the kid shies away almost instantly, hiding behind the kitchen counter, only daring to peek out with big awed eyes every now and then, as if to make sure Leo is really standing there in the kitchen.

Leo clears his throat. “I didn’t realize we had company.”

Cris looks at him like he thinks Leo’s gone insane. His mouth is hanging open unattractively and his throat is working but no sound is coming out.

Leo chuckles and bends over, one hand braced against his thigh and the other extended towards the kid. “Hi there. Don’t be shy. I’m–”

“Leo!” The little kid exclaims, recovering from his shock much quicker than Cris. He runs up to Leo and wraps himself around Leo’s feet. Leo can’t help himself, he smiles down at the kid, reaching down to ruffle his hair. The kid looks up at him with a mixture of shyness and admiration. He is a spitting image of Cris, just like Leo remembers him from the embarrassing childhood pictures Cris’ mum didn’t hesitate to bring up the first time Leo got to visit her.

The kid turns his head to Cris but his grip on Leo doesn’t waver in the slightest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The kid says in an accusation, face scrunching up in a pout.

Cris is still looking so dumbstruck that Leo takes a pity on him. He gently frees himself from the kid’s death grip, bending over and hoisting the kid on his hip. “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, right?”

Cris makes a strangled sound but the kid’s face clears and he sends Cris a beaming smile. “Ah papá, you’re the best!”

Leo nearly drops the kid, his suspicions confirmed. The kid, _Cris’ son_ , buries his face into Leo’s neck and over the top of the kid’s head, Leo meets Cris’ gaze.

Cris stands perfectly still, rooted to the floor.

Leo quickly calculates the kids’ age and well, he must have been born _before_ they got together so at least that thing is off the table. From the completely lost expression on Cris’ face, Leo thinks it’s safe to say he didn’t mean for Leo to find out about the kid this way. Maybe Cris was hoping Leo wouldn’t find out at all. And how is that fair, keeping the kid secret from Leo. The kid. _Cris’ son_.

“Oh my God,” Leo breathes out. The kid is starting to fidget in his arms so Leo lets the kid hop down. He eyes Leo quietly as Leo gets back to mechanically sorting through the groceries until the moment Leo gets to the final bag. It’s one from the bakery and the kid’s interest is peaked again, eyes lighting up. “I got a cake,” Leo confirms with a wink, getting out the plates.

“Really?”

“Well,” Leo admits, picking the pastry forks from the drawer, “it’s a raw cake.”

“Oh! Papá loves those!”

“I know, that’s why I got it,” Leo grins and his eyes find Cris’ gaze because he needs Cris to know that they are in this together. He might be mad and he might want some good explanations but Leo resolves not to argue in front of the kid. Cris doesn’t smile back. In fact, Leo can’t puzzle out his expression at all.

“Oh nooo,” the kid lets out such a long sigh Leo thinks it’s a marvel his little lungs can hold that much air, “it’s the one with plums.” The kid sound positively crushed.

“Of course there are plums, sugarplum! Plums and figs, your father’s favourite,” Leo says, proud that he doesn’t stammer on the word _father_.

The kid leans to Leo with another tragic sigh, then he whispers: “Figs are _icky_!”

Leo whispers back, “You’ll just have to tell me what’s your favourite, so I’d know next time.”

Leo tickles the kid’s side and gets a giggle from him. Leo is feeling a little at loss, so he glances at Cris. Cris is eyeing the cake in disbelief, arching one eyebrow. He is not saying anything, so Leo turns to the kid – Leo still doesn’t know his name, for crying out loud – and asks, “You’re not eating the cake, then?”

“No, ew,” the kid grimaces, sticking out his tongue.

“Good,” Leo says, “at least you’ll have some space left for the other thing.”

“What? What other thing?” The kid demands to know.

 _Can he have cocoa?_ Leo tries to mouth at Cris but Cris doesn’t seem to be on the same wavelength today at all, he just keeps watching the scene in front of him in a haze. So Leo says: “We’ll make us some nice and sweet hot cocoa later, hmm? How does that sound?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” The kid enthuses. “Will you make it into my Barça mug?”

Leo’s eyebrows raise. “You have a Barça mug?” Out of the corner of his eye, Leo can see Cris shift uncomfortably.

“Yes?” The kid says but he is looking from Cris to Leo like he thinks he’s said something bad. His gaze finally settles on his father with a slight frown. “I like Barça, they are the best team!”

Cris’ lips curl up in a sneer and the kids cheeks flush pink but he is staring at his father a little defiantly and Leo appreciates the kids courage. He knows firsthand how does it feel to stand up to the relentless determination Cris projects when he chooses to.

Leo’s smile is pained as he says, “Barça used to be my favourite, too. But Real is the best, you know?”

Leo obviously didn’t help anything because the kid’s head swivels back to look at him as if Leo has personally betrayed him. The kid also looks on the verge of tears. Like he just heard figs are going to be an obligatory daily fixture in their diet. “You don’t like Barça?”

“I like Martínez and García, they both play a solid offence,” Leo relents.

Now even Cris is staring at him as if he had grown a second head.

“What?” Leo isn’t sure what he said so wrong but before he can get the answer, the doorbell rings.

It seems to set things into motion. Cris shakes off the haze he’d been in and he straightens, looking imploringly at his son. “Why don’t you go take a peek at who is it at the door? Leo and I will be there shortly.”

For some odd reason, Leo’s name sounds really strange when Cris says it like that.

The kid scuttles away.

The smile Cris forced on his face falls the moment his son is out of sight. “Talk. How did you get here?”

Leo folds his arms and leans back against the kitchen counter. He drawls the final vowel mockingly as he says, “I have my own key.” He holds up the key for inspection. He doesn’t expect Cris to come towering over him with a frown, snatching the key away and glaring at it as if it personally offended him.

Cris drops the key back into Leo’s palm and pinches his brows. “This isn’t happening,” he mumbles.

“You gave it to me,” Leo says, a little hurt.

“I did not,” Cris snarls, gaze snapping up. “I would never–” Cris breaks off and reconsiders his thoughts as Leo jingles the key tauntingly. “I didn’t,” he starts again, his voice growing smaller, “I don’t remember giving you key to my house.”

“Our house,” Leo corrects gently.

“ _My_ house,” Cris stresses, then adds, “and my son’s.”

“Is he actually a son to you or is it only a part time deal?”

“I actually have a full custody,” Cris says slowly, pronouncing carefully, like he thinks Leo’s has gotten hit in his head by Geri again. God, that ringing didn’t go away for days and both Geri and Sergio wouldn’t stop apologizing for weeks.

Leo presses his lips into a thin angry line. “You take care of him full time and you never told me? How dare you do this to him? He deserves much more from you!”

“You’ve never been here before,” Cris says.

“Have you gone insane? I’ve lived here for years!”

Cris’ face clears, like suffering a mental insanity could be the best thing happening to him right now, like it would make everything better. “I must have. I’m probably just going mad. Ha ha,” Cris snorts, a bit hysterically.

“What? No!”

“But you’re right, you’re right,” Cris mumbles, his eyes shining, “you know where everything is and you know me and you had the key! You know me but I don’t know you.”

Leo’s eyes snap up to Cris’ face because in that instance, he knows. He just never had this happen to him before but Cris told him all about it. His Cris, not – not the one standing in front of Leo now. “Should I – Er. Should I call someone?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’m calling your mum,” Leo decides, grabbing his own phone and dialling the number from memory.

“Don’t,” Cris catches Leo’s hand in a tight grip, “I don’t want to make her worry.”

“Make me worry about what?” Cris’ mum says from the hallway, Cris’ son hopping around her in a what looks like a dance of savages. Cris immediately lets go of Leo and takes a step away from him, too.

“What did I tell you about letting people inside the house?” Cris says sternly, catching his son by the elbow and forcing him to stop. “You were just supposed to look who is standing there and–”

“And I saw it was grandma! Woo, woo, woo, wo,” the kid howls, hand smacking against his mouth, yanking his elbow free and continuing to prance around the kitchen.

Cris shakes his head and leans to his mother instead, giving her a one-armed hug and a kiss on her cheek. “Hi, grandma,” he says.

“Hi,” she says, smiling. Her eyes dart towards Leo standing in the middle of the kitchen, then she purses her lips and looks back at Cris. “You haven’t forgotten I was stopping by today, did you?”

Cris’ guilty face gives him away, even as he says, “How could I, the little Crazy Horse was whooping about it the whole morning.”

“Ah, that little grasshopper,” Cris’ mother says fondly. “I told you to enjoy the dinosaurs era while it lasted.”

“Right,” Cris sighs. “Eh, you two have met, I believe.”

Cris’ mum tilts her head slightly and Leo gives her a little wave, feeling his stomach sink. There is not a single trace of that warm affection in her gaze either. She looks at Leo with mild interest but there is nothing welcoming in her expression. “Maybe we can have coffee and cake and move this conversation into the living room?” Leo says.

Cris’ mother nods, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. Cris gently takes her by her arm and leads her to the living room. She looks at her son, then twists her head to look back at Leo in puzzlement.

Leo attempts a smile, “I know, a little splash of milk and no sugar.” He turns his back on them before he could see the reaction to his words.

At least, he knows what’s going on now. It doesn’t make anything easier, though.

In a few minutes, Cris returns to the kitchen to ‘help Leo with the plates’. Leo doesn’t protest.

“Mum will take hers to the patio,” Cris says, waiting for Leo to finish pouring the boiling water. “The little savage is playing in the garden.”

Leo nods and lets Cris wander out and back in again.

“Er, I think we really should talk,” Cris says, shoulders stiff. He gestures to the chairs at the little table in the kitchen.

Leo makes a face. “The couch is much more comfy.”

Cris picks his own mug and the plate with the raw cake. “The living room it is, then.”

Once they are seated, Leo makes Cris state his full name, his mother’s name, the current squad – and it all fits but for the son and some of their teammates and people in the club.

“So I play for Barcelona here?” The surprised question escapes Leo before he can control himself.

“Yes, you do. You’re the enemy.” Cris watches him intently, like he is trying to figure out what is different about him. But the difference is not in what meets the eye.

“Enemy to your team or your family?”

“Both.”

“I didn’t even know about your son. And _I_ don’t play for Barcelona, for crying out loud.”

Slouching forward, Cris puts his elbows against his knees, head bent low, his hands clasped behind his neck. “This isn’t happening.”

Leo gently touches Cris’ shoulder.

“Do you think I have a concussion?” Cris asks almost hopefully.

“Oh, Cris,” Leo sighs, “I wish it was that easy to explain.”

It’s the first time this happened to Leo, usually Cris is the one who falls through to another dimension and has to deal with this mess.

“I don’t even know where to begin.” Leo pushes the plate towards Cris and gives him a nudge. “Here, why don’t you take a bite first.”

 

**…**

* * *

 

 

Leo feels an immense pull. He squints his eyes and groans against the sudden sharp pain that spikes through his head. When he blinks his eyes open, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings.

His heart rate goes up and his breath quickens. He is starting to panic because he doesn’t remember how he got there and he doesn’t recognize anything; not the orange trees growing beside the benches and not the white flower pots on the windows, not the cosy little square paved with cobble stones.

His phone rings and Leo pats his pockets, finds the phone with shaky fingers and answers the call. “Yes?”

“Oh thank God, Leo, I wasn’t sure the number would work.”

Leo blinks in confusion. “The number works, I guess.” He doesn’t have time for social calls right now. Whatever it is Ronaldo wants to discuss, it can _wait_.

“Listen, Leo, where are you?”

The questions is like a punch. “I – I don’t know,” Leo stammers before he can stop himself.

“Oh. I thought so. Do you recognize anything around you? Does anything look familiar?”

“No? I don’t know,” Leo gulps, glancing around him, “I don’t think so, no.”

“Shh, shh, just focus on me for a bit, okay? Good, listen to me, and take in a deep breath, good, that’s good. It’s fine, you hear me? I’ll be with you in a sec. _Where_ are you? What can you see?”

The stream of deep levelled voice calms Leo down enough to be able to describe his surroundings. Ronaldo hums when Leo is done and promises to come collect Leo.

Leo sinks down to a near bench and tries to keep from freaking out completely. He’s sitting there for maybe half an hour when he spots Ronaldo’s tall figure approaching. Despite himself, Leo fells a bit of relief flood his veins – there is finally something at least a bit familiar now.

“Hi,” he greets Ronaldo warily.

“You look pale,” Ronaldo says, holding out a hand and Leo accepts it on autopilot and is actually startled when Ronaldo hauls him upright from the bench instead of shaking his hand like Leo stupidly expected him to.

He snatches his hand back the moment he finds his footing and gives Ronaldo an affronted look.

Ronaldo gives him a beaming smile in response. “Damn, I haven’t seen _that_ look in ages.”

“What–?” Leo starts to ask but they are interrupted by an excited cry. A group of three fans surrounds them in a matter of seconds and Leo freezes up completely.

Ronaldo doesn’t stop smiling as he takes the offered sharpie and signs–

Leo’s breathing comes to a halt when he catches a look at the posters Ronaldo is signing.

It’s definitely the Real’s squad – and at the same time, it is definitely _not_.

Ronaldo seems to sense Leo’s panicking and he places one hand at the nape of Leo’s neck as he makes their excuses to the fans. Leo knows he shouldn’t feel comforted by the warmth of the firm touch Ronaldo has on him but he does. He allows himself to be guided to where Ronaldo left his car.

Ronaldo pushes him inside and places a water bottle in Leo’s hand.

“Drink. You’re not taking this as well as I thought,” Ronaldo says as he slips behind the wheel.

Leo turns his head and looks at him. There is genuine worry in the dark eyes. Leo obligingly takes a sip. “Why are being you nice to me?”

“That’s not a question you’d like to hear the answer to right now,” Ronaldo throws one hand around the back of Leo’s seat as he twists to look behind them before he puts the car into reverse. “Let’s get you home first and then I can explain.”

“Explain what exactly – why nothing makes sense anymore? Is this some elaborate prank? Did you drug me?”

Ronaldo has the audacity to laugh. “Yes, no, and I did not. Do you at least know about the _others_?”

“What others?”

“Right. Buckle up and no more questions until we get some caffeine into your system. You look ashen.”

Leo buckles up and keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the ride. It’s not as horrible as Leo would thought it ought to be. Ronaldo even switches on the radio, presses three buttons and Leo’s favourite station comes on. Ronaldo only grins at Leo’s boggling eyes and starts humming along with the song that starts playing.

The garage is dark and Leo is left blinking stupidly when the ride is over. It’s definitely not Leo’s home. Ronaldo slides out of the car and deactivates the alarm system.

“Get the lights, would you?” Ronaldo calls when Leo stumbles out of the car.

“Where?”

“Oh, of course,” Ronaldo chuckles. “A little to the right. Yes. No, my right, your left!”

Ronaldo deals with the alarm faster than Leo can find the switch so Ronaldo goes over to get the lights himself. His fingers brush against Leo’s hand at the same time Leo finally manages to hit the switch.

The sudden light is even worse than the semi-darkness from before. Leo’s eyes tear up a bit.

Ronaldo is standing very close and Leo’s fingers are still tingling from where Ronaldo touched him.

“This is always the best part,” Ronaldo murmurs softly. Leo isn’t sure the comment was meant for his ears but he shivers all the same. Ronaldo steps away from him and leads them inside to the house.

The photograph that hangs above the staircase is what catches Leo’s attention first. It’s him. And Ronaldo. And somehow, it’s even worse than the poster he’d seen in the fan’s hands not that long time ago. This is – worse. More intimate, for one.

Leo tries to make some sense of it but the facts just aren’t adding up.

When Ronaldo notices Leo isn’t following him, he pauses several steps above Leo, looking down at the Argentinean from even greater height than usual. Leo can’t imagine what his face must be doing now but Ronaldo studies the expression for a few moments, then he shakes his head, his smile gone. “I take it we’re just friends from where you’re from?”

Leo chokes. “Friends?” He manages. “We aren’t friends.”

“Ah,” Ronaldo responds and he turns away and resumes his walk.

Leo spares one last glance at the photograph – it’s just that he looks so happy; he is laughing, head thrown back, exposing his neck which Ronaldo is kissing shamelessly while somehow still managing to look straight into the camera lenses – before hurrying after Ronaldo.

“What do you mean _where I’m from_? What _is_ this place?”

“Your home. And mine.” Ronaldo gestures to a little table in the kitchen and Leo sits down.

Leo raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. “Excuse me?”

“Right, coffee,” Ronaldo turns away from him to open a cabinet and get out two white ceramic mugs. “Listen, we don’t have much time so I’m not going to sugar coat anything. You don’t like it when I coddle you anyways.” At Leo’s frown Ronaldo adds, “Usually.”

“O-kay,” Leo allows slowly, bewildered.

“So, this is a different reality than the one you know. Here, you and I live together and sometimes shit happens and other versions of me or you come through. You with me so far?”

Leo’s eyes dart back to the hallway where he the gigantic photograph of the two of them _together_ is on a display. Leo gulps. “Yeah.”

“Good. We just have to figure out a way to get you back to where you came from and hope that my Leo comes back here when you get back there.”

Leo shifts nervously in his chair. The fancy design may look impressive but is not comfortable to lean back against in the slightest. “You said we don’t have much time. This – this isn’t going to be permanent if we don’t act quick enough, is it?”

The thing is, there is a small voice in Leo’s head that keeps whispering that this wouldn’t be the worst fate. He feels himself blushing at the thought.

“Oh, no. Don’t worry about getting stuck here with me. We’ll figure it out.” Ronaldo puts the coffee in front of Leo and without prompting he passes Leo the sugar, too, so Leo can add as much as he feels like. Today calls for treating himself to a bit of extra sugar, Leo reasons with himself.

Ronaldo watches him with a fond smile and Leo keeps his eyes glued to the mug so he doesn’t have to see it.

“I just meant,” Ronaldo clears his throat, “that we don’t have much time before the rest of the team is here. We sometimes have these get-togethers, we grill something in the garden and drink.”

“I can do that.”

“Great. First we need to get through the evening, then we worry about sending you back. We’ll have a crash course on our relationship so you don’t give anything away when the guys are here.”

Leo is silent for a moment, then he asks, “I don’t have to cook that dinner or anything, right?”

“Of course not. You couldn’t make an omelette to save your life and I’m pretty sure your qualities here are the same ones you have now.” Ronaldo gives him a wink.

“Hey! I’m not that hopeless,” Leo objects.

“Damn, I just hope we have some groceries. I – I haven’t been shopping.”

Leo raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you just get everything ordered in?”

The question seems to throw Ronaldo off balance for a moment. “I would but – you – I don’t, actually.”

“Okay, so tell me what I need to know and let’s hope for the best,” Leo says, squaring his shoulders.

Ronaldo gives him an approving nod and goes to retrieve an actual binder with neatly assembled facts Leo is supposed to read through before the guests start arriving. Reading through the pages is an eye-opening experience for Leo and he knows he spends more time than strictly necessary going over the _facts_ about his and Ronaldo’s _relationship_ but at least Ronaldo gives him space and doesn’t make fun of him.

The evening goes remarkably well, Leo thinks. Ronaldo simply answers for him when Leo is being asked questions he wouldn’t have know how to respond to. No one seems to catch up on how carefully Ronaldo is treating him and no one seems to question their relationship. Probably because they have no reason to question it, for them it is an everyday reality, Leo realizes with a start.

He feels suddenly overwhelmed by the whole thing. By the people scattered through the house and garden, all their friends, all glad to be here and share the nice evening with the others.

It’s surreal. Ramos is glaring at his cards in betrayal and Geri is laughing at him just two seats away from Leo, people Leo didn’t think could stand each other’s presence for a minute are revelling together effortlessly, and pretending to be a part of it is the easiest thing for Leo. It hurts to realize how much he is enjoying being a part of this.

“You okay there?” Marcelo asks, leaning close and placing one hand on Leo’s knee.

Leo jerks his leg away, startled.

“You have to excuse Leo today,” Ronaldo says, materializing behind Leo’s chair and placing his hands on Leo’s shoulders, “he’s been feeling odd the whole day.”

“Oh, is it one of those headaches?” Geri asks with a frown, looking over at them. Ramos takes the opportunity to quickly peer into his cards and his frown only deepens.

“Yes,” both him and Ronaldo answer in unison. Some of the tension Leo has been feeling leaves his shoulders, especially once Ronaldo starts kneading out the kinks in Leo’s neck.

“Is it one of _those_ headaches?” Marcelo asks and Leo can’t quite put his finger on what he finds so weird about the tone Marcelo uses. He is smiling widely and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively but his eyes are serious as he searches Leo’s face.

“That’s enough wine for you,” James says in a huff and snatches Marcelo’s glass away from him. Then he frowns at the glass. While he is looking around for where to dispose of it, Geri leans to Marcelo over the table.

“Psst,” Geri hisses, handing Marcello a new glass and pouring him wine.

“Huh? Oh, hey, thanks,” Marcelo accepts the glass with a smile.

James turns back just in time to see Marcelo taking an appreciative gulp. He gasps. “Jesus, do I have to keep an eye on you all the time?”

Leo chuckles at their antics. “Maybe you don’t have to but you want to.”

Marcelo nearly chokes on his drink and he quickly sets the glass down.

James doesn’t seem to be looking at his friend anymore. Instead, he eyes Leo, shaking his hand dismissively. “Nu-uh! Just because you two keep making heart eyes at each other doesn’t mean we all do.”

Leo hopes his laughter sounds at least a little genuine and the look he gives Ronaldo could pass as a smitten rather than constipated.

Making his headache the excuse, Leo soon calls it a night. Trying not to look scared, he leans up to Ronaldo and gives him the briefest peck on his cheek, his lips barely brushing against the soft, shaven skin.

Marcelo lurches forward before Leo can bolt. “I’ll guide you up.”

“Uh. Thanks.”

The moment they’re out of the other’s earshot, Marcelo turns to him. “Are we,” he starts, gripping Leo’s shoulder tightly, “I mean me and James, are we–?”

Marcelo obviously can’t bring himself to finish the question but Leo knows anyway. Leo knows because he is sure he has the exact same wistful expression on his face right now. “No,” he says and watches Marcelo's sombre eyes, “not to my knowledge.”

“Of course not,” Marcelo mutters, letting go of Leo and leaving without another word.

Leo promises himself to talk to both Marcelo and James if he ever gets back into his world.

 

**…**

* * *

 

 

The ominous silence doesn’t tell Leo anything about how well he managed to describe the situation. He tried, no one can accuse him of not trying enough. He is just not good at explaining things and the coldness of Cris’ expression isn’t exactly encouraging. But Leo said his piece and now there’s only one thing left to do.

Leo takes in a deep breath and avoids Cris’ gaze as he suggests: “Maybe if I kissed you, it would throw me back into my universe…?”

That at least gets him a reaction. “What?! That is insane!”

“Why not? In my universe, you’re my ‘ _true love_ ’.”

“Not a chance in hell. You can forget about it, you hear me?”

“Look, I’m Leo, he’s me, I’m him. Essentially, we’re the same, just different variants. He’s going to love your kid and he’s going to love you if you give him the chance.”

“I don’t care, I’m not kissing you,” Cris hisses.

Leo sighs. “It’s not like I haven’t done this before, in my world.”

“I don’t care,” Cris repeats, “I don’t care if that’s what you do in your world, it’s not happening here.”

“Exactly,” Leo tries. “It’s not happening here. If I kiss you here, the universe sees it’s not really _you_ and gets me back to where it’s really _you_!”

“You’re insane. This is sick,” Cris spits out and storms out of the room. He doesn’t go far – from where Leo is standing he can see Cris stop in the hallway by the window, his shoulders shaking. How someone could be so oblivious and so stubborn is beyond Leo.

 

**…**

* * *

 

Ronaldo comes up to check on him some time later. “Hey.”

The house seems to be quiet again, everyone must have already left. Leo has been hiding in their bedroom in case someone needed to crash in the guest room. Leo took the binder with the notes on his and Ronaldo’s relationship with him but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to open it again. He placed it on the nightstand instead and hasn’t touch it. He meant to take a quick shower instead but got sidetracked by his thoughts.

“Hi,” Leo manages a smile. “This is weird.” He holds up the toothbrush he’d been staring at. “Everything is just what I would expect it to be but this would never happen in my world.”

“Well, it could.”

Leo snorts. “You haven’t met – yourself.”

“Actually, there was that one time… Uh. I don’t think I’m supposed to tell anybody about it.”

Leo can’t tell if Ronaldo is joking or not. “It’s really nice, what you have here,” Leo says eventually, and makes an accompanying gesture around himself. Ronaldo’s expression softens and Leo knows he understood all that Leo meant by the phrase.

“Thank you,” he says. “You don’t know what you’re missing out.”

It hurts to imagine. Leo shakes his head. “I don’t think I want to know.”

“You sure you don’t?” Ronaldo grins. “Leo and I have a _very_ liberal cheating policy about precisely this kind of situations.”

Leo gapes at him. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Ronaldo shakes his head, eyes sparkling. “So, let me ask again. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to find out exactly what you might be missing in your world?”

Leo’s heart is beating fast and he can’t make a sound. With a knowing smile, Ronaldo approaches him. Leo tilts his head back a little so he can maintain the eye contact. Leo licks his lips and has to fight the blush when Ronaldo’s eyes drift down to track the movement. But Ronaldo doesn’t do anything else.

“Are we,” Leo starts, then has to gulp down. His throat feels too tight and his nervousness shows on his face. “Are we doing this?”

Ronaldo gives him a small smile and doesn’t move an inch. “Only if you’re sure you’re okay with it.”

Leo laughs nervously. “And you? You’re okay with it?”

Ronaldo’s gentle, warm smile turns into a familiar, self-assured smirk. “It’s not like I haven’t done this before. Here, with you – with the other you. And who knows, it might get you back to your home.”

Leo flushes, eyes downcast. “I thought that’s why we’re doing this in the first place.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, then,” Leo breaths out.

“If you’re quite sure,” Ronaldo whispers close to Leo’s ear and Leo shivers.

“Yes.” Leo lifts his head and kisses Ronaldo firmly. His lips part against the pressure with a soft gasp and Leo takes the chance to lick into the warmth mouth.

Ronaldo grunts, grabs Leo’s hips and presses closer and Leo lets himself become lost in the sensation.

 

**…**

* * *

 

 

One moment Leo is watching Cris’ inner turmoil from afar and the very next Cris is right in front of him, the hatred Leo was exposed to before gone, replaced by joy and love.

Leo wraps his arms around Cris’ neck. “I missed you.”

Cris’ arms tighten around him in response and Leo feels safe, at last. “Welcome back home.”

Leo snorts. “He disappeared again with the very first kiss, didn’t he?”

Cris’ affronted silence is answer enough for Leo.

“You poor thing. I know how much you enjoy seducing the other Leos,” Leo cackles, placing one palm on Cris’ cheek and giving him a mock pout.

Cris attempts to get away from the touch. “I did not–!”

“Hush now,” Leo kisses the protest away from Cris’ lips. “They always seem to need an extra push or they wouldn’t ever get anywhere.”

“You’re probably right.”

“But I pity the other Leo,” Leo sighs. “It was so weird, you looking at me as if you didn’t want me there.” Leo shudders and lets Cris rest his head on Leo’s shoulder, rocking them slightly from side to side.

“Well, he didn’t throw you out, did he?”

“No,” Leo admits, “but you should have seen him, he was so freaked out.”

“It must have been a lot to take in.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Leo sighs. “I don’t envy the other Leo at all.”

“I don’t know. I have a feeling he’ll come to his senses. Also, you can be very persuasive in any world.”

“Missed you,” Leo laughs and leans in for another kiss.

 

**…**

* * *

 

 

The kiss leaves Leo dizzy and when he blinks his eyes open, he meets Ronaldo’s determined gaze.

“Fine, then,” Ronaldo says harshly and his grip on Leo’s shoulder is bruising rather than caressing. There is no trace of the warmth that softened his voice just a few minutes before.

Ronaldo leans in again and their lips collide, no grace and no familiarity in the kiss this time.

Leo raises his hand to cup Ronaldo’s jaw and angle it a little to the side. Then his hand slides further down, fingers brushing against the back of his neck and his thumb pressing down into the spot behind his ear; he remembers the way Ronaldo basically melted into him when he did that just a moment ago. It must be a touch Ronaldo is familiar with but it’s not his Leo doing this and Leo wonders if it will work.

Ronaldo does indeed relax minutely, sagging against Leo for the briefest of moments. Then the tension snaps back in and Leo can first feel Ronaldo freeze and then recoil.

“Well, so that didn’t work, obviously,” Ronaldo stars pacing around the living room. _The living room_. No photographs of the two of them anywhere in sight.

The dawning realization that he is really, truly back where he belongs to leaves Leo speechless.

Ronaldo must still be thinking Leo is from the wrong universe. “Any other bright ideas?” Ronaldo snaps.

Leo shoves his hands into his pockets because he has a sudden stupid urge to keep touching his tingling lips. “Er, Cristiano?” Leo croaks.

“Just Cris,” Ronaldo corrects him.

“Cris,” Leo tries again. “It worked.”

“It worked? It worked?! Are you nuts? I mean, you are, but are you even crazier? You’re still here and if you were right at least about something, then the Leo from here is stuck somewhere–”

“I’m not, I’m here.”

Ronaldo falls silent and stops pacing around. “Since when?”

Leo is as red as a tomato which is probably an answer on its own. He has to get away from Ronaldo’s piercing gaze. “I was – somewhere else – and it looked just like this but different. There was a big picture on the wall – and there was this – oh.” Leo pauses when he notices the Barça mug on the table. “Is that…?”

The door to the veranda slide open and Ronaldo’s mother comes inside. Leo stares at her in horror. A little shaggy head appears behind her.

“Leo!” the kid exclaims in delight, “you’re still here?”

Leo doesn’t miss the sardonic look Ronaldo’s mother gives them, “Yes sweetie, Leo is _still_ here.”

“Good, because you promised me cocoa!” The kid propels himself into Leo’s arms and Leo catches him on instinct.

“Then I’d better not break my promise,” Leo manages, adjusting his grip and holding the kid closer to his chest.

“You’d better not,” the kid tells him solemnly.

There’s some sort of silent conversation going on between Ronaldo and his mother. Leo doesn’t even want to know.

“Okay,” Ronaldo’s mother says after a beat, “the little Indian and I are going to the park. Why don’t you go get your coat, honey.”

“I’ll want my cocoa later,” the kid lets go of Leo and runs down the hallway. “Please!” He shouts from distance as an afterthought. Then his head pops up from behind the corner again, “And something sweet that’s not figs!”

“Like alfajores?” Leo tries and the kid nods enthusiastically and disappears.

Ronaldo’s mum purses her lips, but her eyes are sparkling as she looks from one to the other, “You two better be dressed and presentable when we get back in two hours, I repeat, two hours and not a minute later. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Well,” Leo says when the door close behind them, “it must have been quite interesting here with the other me.”

“It was, eh, eventful,” Ronaldo allows. Then he pauses long enough to catch Leo’s gaze, and adds, “You told my son you didn’t like Barça.”

Leo’s eyes widen in shock. “Oh my God, what did he say?”

The corner of Ronaldo’s lips twitches up. “He took it in stride, he likes you too much.”

“We’ll just have to tell him I was joking.” Leo half contemplates running out after the kid and reassuring him immediately where his heart’s allegiance lies.

Ronaldo noticeably suppresses a smile. “You can tell him when they get back. But I believe we were having an interesting conversation just before.”

“You want to get back to that?” Leo asks, his voice a mix of hope and anxiety.

“I believe I do,” Ronaldo smiles at Leo reassuringly.

Leo takes a step closer. “Because you want to know more about the – other us?”

“Some other day for sure,” Ronaldo says, tilting his head and watching Leo’s tentative approach. “But I was more curious about what you’ve got to say about this world. Here and now.”


End file.
